


With Bombs Whistling, Falling Through the Air

by jusrecht



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: <i>TYL!Dino/TYL!Hibari – dangerous and moving; “cause you’re a criminal as long as you’re mine”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	With Bombs Whistling, Falling Through the Air

\---

  
There was room for mistake, but not much. You learned this when you stopped the bullet with the softness of your belly. It should have been something else, some limb of less importance, but at the time you could not remember which was what. You saw the gun, aimed at the person you had thought as a father for so long, and your body moved on its own.

The bursting pain overwhelmed.

You caught the horror in Romario’s eyes and wondered why. You felt horror for your enemies instead.

  
–

  
You woke on a hospital bed, riddled with pain and confusion. Romario watched you with the eyes of a man who had gone without sleep for days. He tried to smile, but the haunted look did not leave.

It did not take you long to wrestle the truth from his mouth. Your horror had come true.

  
–

  
“How could you?”

Kyouya sat on the windowsill, framed by moonlight and the star-sprinkled night. For all your bitterness—an entire Family, hundreds of lives for one fucking bullet piercing your stomach, not even lethal by miles—the sight of him took your breath away.

“Look who’s talking.”

Your eyes met his contemptuous gaze. He knew what you had done when it had been him unconscious in a hospital bed; of course he did.

  
–

  
You had given Romario your reason: to kill was too much. There were other ways to eliminate a threat. Haunt them until they were broken. Destroy their livelihood. Cut the core of their existence.

You did not take lives; you took everything but.

Few would think that one could concoct so complex a scheme, but you operated on a different plane when it concerned your Family—or Kyouya. There was a mishmash of uneasiness, awe, sadness, even growing fear in Romario’s eyes as he watched your plan unfold in silence. You left not a trail of corpses but fangless creatures too broken to be called humans. Only then could you rest, for they would be no threat to anyone, least of all Kyouya.

Your hand dealt no death, but you forgot that sometimes death was mercy.

  
–

  
Tsuna mentioned it in passing when he came up to you amongst the swirling throng of purposeful guests at your birthday party.

“I understand that they’re a threat.” To _whom_ he did not say, but you both knew well enough. “It’s just…”

“Heartless?” There was laughter somewhere in your throat, or a mockery of it. Tsuna kept his lips pressed together as if he was afraid of what might slip out. Sorrow engulfed him like night over day, so easily.

Skies were always the same—spreading, endless; but their colours changed.

  
–

  
“One day, I’m going to hate you.”

Even over the line, you could hear that bloodied smirk in his soft, mocking whisper, “Except you cannot.”

“Bastard.” The word strangled; you wondered if you had ever hated or loved anyone more.

  
–

  
It was the pensive expression in Reborn’s face. You thought you had seen all of him, all those years of slaving yourself under his tutelage, for the Family’s name and the flag and the throne of corpses. You thought wrong.

And then he smiled and you wanted to rip it off his face.

“It’s all your fault.”

He tilted his head and he might have seemed like a baby, wearing innocence like second skin, but you knew better. “Is that regret or gratitude?” he asked; he always smiled when he cut.

You did not answer—maybe because you hardly knew what the answer was. Reborn’s laugh was soft, almost affectionate.

“My poor, hopeless student,” he murmured, and the caress of his deceptively small fingers burned your cheek. “You still don’t know what you want, do you?”

  
–

  
The man looked at you with dead, soulless eyes. You tried to remember what he had done wrong, to merit such wrath, but the purple flame snared your mind, allowed you no reprieve.

“What have I made you, Kyouya?”

His grey eyes were dark and oh-so-beautiful, as they always were after he had killed—or after he had come. “Is that what you think?” he drawled, sounding almost pleased but the danger lurking underneath. “That _you_ have made _me_?”

You could have answered; you knew the philosophy of a two-way road, the touch that made, however faint or fleeting—but he slipped a hand around your neck and kissed your unresisting lips and you remembered that it was him you wanted to protect. And it was you he wanted to protect, but love shouldn’t have justified _everything_.

You fucked amidst fallen bodies and death’s amused eyes. Desecration upon desecration. Somehow, it was only fitting.

  
 **  
_End_   
**

\---


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